Jack in the Box

by Shaw, Michael

  He looked back.

  "How long are you going to do this, Brian?"

  "Indefinitely." He ran into the next room.

  I opened the door and kept running. "Why'd you lie to me?"

  "I don't invent lies. I only encourage them."

  "How does that make any difference?" I yelled as he went into another room.

  He closed the door and I immediately reopened it.

  He was gone.

  I closed the door behind me.What? Where'd he go?I looked around the entire room.He's not hiding. He couldn't have been fast enough to go into one of the next rooms.I put my hand on my head. Had I followed him that long just to lose him again? I turned around. We'd been going North. What could he have done to lose me? Did he use the South door?Two steps forward.I opened the door. The door I'd just come through.One step back.

  There was Brian. He walked casually toward another door.

  I shut the door behind me.

  His head spun in my direction.

  "Nice trick," I smiled. "Don't forget, there are things that Ido know, too."

  He glared at me.

  "Why'd you lie to me, Brian?" I walked forward and stopped a few feet in front of him. "What's the point of all this?"

  He pointed to my leg. "You should know."

  I looked down at myself. "What?"

  "The paper. Principle 10. Didn't you read it?"

  "You saw that?" I took the paper out. Took another step forward.

  "What, do you think I'm blind? I saw you tear it out. So don't ask me why I lied to you." He looked defensive. Almost angry.

  I shook my head. "You pretended to be my father. You completely manipulated-"

  "Inever claimed to be your father!" he clenched his fist and pointed a finger at my face.

  "You never denied it, either!" I thrust the paper in front out in front of me, displaying it to Brian.

  He snatched the paper out of my hand. As I stepped forward to take it back, he pushed my arm to the side. In response, I shoved him in the chest. He took a step back. Felt behind himself and grabbed the doorknob.

  I pulled the gun out. "Stop."

  He looked at the gun. Smirked. "Yeah, because you're totally going to use that."

  I kept it aimed at his head. "You're nothing but a liar. All you do is manipulate."

  He shrugged.

  My eyebrows came down. "Why are you even doing this? You're not stuck in hell. Why are you spending all this time for this?"

  His expression grew solemn. "What I said about hell was a lie." He looked down. Hand still on the doorknob. "But what the man in charge said? Not a lie."

  My breaths were shaky. "I'll still catch you."

  He darted out of the room.

  I started to chase after him.

  He tried to close the door in my face.

  I shoved through it and shut it behind me. I ran toward him as he disappeared into the next room.

  A voice spoke up from behind me. "Not cool, man."

  I turned around.

  The referee walked in, looking slightly disoriented.

  What?

  "Knock me out once, shame on you. Knock me out twice. . ." he mumbled a few nonsensical words.

  "You're already awake?"

  "Yes indeed, Jacky." He rubbed his eyes. "The whole system can be inconsistent. Sometimes you're out for a day. Sometimes you're out for twenty minutes." He shook his head and slapped his face. "Regardless of how long, though, it's always made me pretty drowsy."

  I looked around. "What do you want?"

  The referee stood up straighter. He was awake, now. "Don't forget who I am, Jacky. I'm making sure you don't break any rules. It's all part of. . . well, the rules!" he smiled and clapped his hands together.

  "Yeah? Well, you made me lose Brian." I turned to back towards the door. I was going to follow him. But I knew he was gone.I can't wait for the referee to be back in his suit.I faced him. "Thanks for that. I'm not going to find him now."

  "No problem, man," he smirked and cracked his knuckles.

  I watched him. He had slight wrinkles in his face. But he acted like a kid. Was he toying with me? Or was he just cocky? It could have been either. I assumed it was both.

  We stared at each other.

  The referee rocked on his feet.

  "So. . ." I said.

  "So, go on." the referee waved me on with the back of his hands. "I'm visible today, but I still have to be here."

  I slowly nodded, "Okay. . . But. . . Tell me if you can help me with something."

  He put his hands in his pockets and raised an eyebrow.

  "I may have been lied to, but tell me if this is the truth: Ican pass the test, right?"

  He lifted his upper lip. "Of course."

  "Without killing?"

  He narrowed his eyes. Strolled to the right. "You are very adamant against doing what should seem so natural to you."

  "Just tell me."

  He ignored me. "I wonder why that is. . ." he walked to the left.

  "What?"

  He lifted his head to look at the ceiling. "Jack Colson was a mass-murderer. You won't even take the life of your captor."

  I shook my head. "Wait. What are you-"

  "Jack Colson invented the test. You have yet to find a solution."

  I took a step back. "No. That's not. . ."

  "Jack Colson," he overpowered me with his voice. He brought his feet together and spun to face me. His gaze stunned me. "Jack Colson had brown eyes."

  I knew that. I had seen it. But I didn't think it meant anything. Or, I didn't want it to. It was just eye color. And besides, I'd thought I was in hell. It didn't seem like a big deal.

  It was.

  "What are you saying?" my chest rose and fell quickly.

  He grinned and tapped his foot.

  I put my hand on my head. Looked down. The test isn't hell. I'm not dead. And. . .

  I'm not Jack Colson. . .

  I lifted my head. "No!"

  "Believe it, Jacky." the referee rubbed his hands together.

  "No! That's a lie." I pointed at him. My muscles tensed.

  His smiling lips parted to reveal his crooked teeth. "Haven't you been feeling it all along? Jack Colson was a stranger to you. This man's memories were in your head, but why? He was nothing like you." His smile went away and he said bluntly, "You're nothing like him."

  The room spun. But I was wide awake. Today everything fell apart. A few hours was all it took. All they had needed to do was cover the hook with all their bait, so that I'd believe the lies.

  I staggered back. Felt my forehead.I'm not Jack Colson? Then why do I have these memories?"Are you lying to me?"

  The referee's smile grew. He stared at my chest.

  I looked down at myself. Lowered my shirt collar. There was no arrow. There was no birthmark on my skin. I rubbed the place where it should've been. "No. . ."

  "Jack, just because we call you Jack, doesn't mean you're Jack. Got it Jack?" the referee laughed shrilly.

  I growled. But I asked again. I had to be sure. "Are you lying to me?" I said more forcefully. I started rubbing my head.

  He scoffed. "The only lies were your own," he put his hands in his pockets. "Our job was to agree with them. Materialize the lies. Make them undeniable."

  "Why tell me this, then?" I lowered my hand. "What's the point of hiding the truth and then allowing me to see it?"

  "It teaches you a little lesson, Jacky."

  I curled my fingers into a fist.

  This was all happening too fast. But I suppose finding out something like this would always seem to happen too fast. It didn't make much sense. At the same time, though, it made more sense than the thought that I was Jack Colson in hell. Not that I didn't believe it before, but who can escape from hell? That should have been a clue to me from the beginning. Why would the world's most depraved man be given another life after he died?

  But what now? Now I'm supposed to believe that I'm not the man whose memories fil
l my head?

  "The test is all about your trying to pass, and our trying to fail you. Believe it or not, this ordeal should've taught you something."

  I ignored him. I was beginning to realize the test was not just what was happening to me. It was not just overcoming physical obstacles. The test was not the Box.

  The test was my mind.

  "Are you hearing me, Jack?" the referee tilted his head.

  I threw my hands up. "What? What does it teach me?" I said impatiently.

  He straightened up slowly and smiled. "Is it not clear?"

  I leaned slightly forward. Flat lips.

  "You," he gestured with one hand, "can't outsmart us." He pointed a thumb at himself.

  Something inside me churned. I felt as though a flame had been lit. My heart was hot. I lowered my head.

  "You don't know what's true or not."

  My hand once again formed a white-knuckled fist

  His dirty teeth showed themselves again. "We easily had you hooked on the 'hell' thing for such a long time."

  I stared at my fist.

  "Face it, there's nothing you can do to-"

  I dove at him. My fingers extended out.

  His eyes popped open wide, and he held flat palms out to stop me.

  I grabbed his neck while in the air and came down on top of him.

  He grabbed my hands which were now clenching his neck. His eyes screamed true fear. His feet kicked and squirmed.

  I shook his neck up and down a few times. It wasn't to kill him. I kept a tight grip, only to restrict his airway. To get his attention.

  He gagged. His eyes bulged.

  "You mistake time with failure," I growled.

  His eyes stared straight into mine.

  "I'm not done yet, and 'who outsmarts who' will be determined by the end of this, not the beginning or middle."

  He clawed at my hands.

  "I want you to feel this." I grabbed his hand and put it on my chest. My other hand stayed down on his neck. "Do you feel that?"

  My heart thumped against his hand. He continued to choke.

  I loosened my hand. "Do you?" I yelled.

  "Yes!" he gasped.

  I retightened my grip. "As long as that beats we are not done. Now, you can answer my questions, or just keep your mouth shut."

  He nodded frantically.

  I shoved his head against the floor and stood.

  He coughed and rolled onto his side. His eyes squinted shut.

  "Get up."

  He managed to bring himself to his feet.

  I rubbed my chin. It was becoming clear that I couldn't keep dancing through the rooms forever. I needed to come up with a plan, or just accept that I'd never pass. But what was I supposed to do? Brian was faster. Knowing the rooms didn't help me. I couldn't think of anything.

  The referee cleared his throat.

  "Hang on," I said, "I'm thinking." My eyes fell on the ref. And then I had an idea. "Wait a second. . ."

  He looked down at himself. "What?"

  I looked at my watch. Three hours until dinner. "I need to ask you something." I crossed my arms. "Brian can give me requested items. Can you do that too?"

  He rubbed his neck. Reluctantly, he nodded. Eyes closed.

  "Good," I said.

  "But, like Brian, I can't give you just anything," he croaked.

  "Okay."

  "That was the closest you've ever been to Jack Colson," he nodded back at where I'd tackled him.

  I stared at him. "Is that an insult?"

  "No," he shook his head.

  "Well, I take it as one."

  He returned my stare.

  I wiped my face. And I prayed. Yes, prayed. I don't really know of another word for it. I didn't know who I was praying to, but I did. I got the same feeling I'd gotten before. When I felt there was something there. Something helping. Protecting. My eyes trailed around the room.

  "So, what are you planning?"

  I snapped back to it. "Let me tell you what I'll need."

  →

  I sat back at the table in my room. The test. The Box. Everyday was an odd combination of information and effort. Of revelation and testing. At times revelations connected to how I might pass. Mostly, though, it was a dichotomy of sorts. I always had to continue as if things weren't changing in my mind. As if I hadn't just dreamed. As if I weren't warring with guilt. With desperation. To ignore that things are changing is a futile effort. I tried. But things were always changing. Things don't stop changing. A few remain the same, but much of what I'd known was a combination of subjectivity and deception. I was Jack Colson. I was in hell. I was a murderer. At least, I had thought I was. I had thought I was the man who walked through life with an agenda of cold-hearted murder. In the name of science.

  Science. How could Jack Colson think that science was the justifier of his acts? Science should be used to save lives. To make discoveries. And yes, I'd dare say it, "to better mankind." How can mankind be better as men and women race through doors to nowhere? As the standard of living is to take a life? As children send lead through their fathers' heads? Things had changed. No matter how angry Jack Colson's actions made me, though, the truth that he and I were not the same person was a comfort. No, I didn't feel exalted. But the guilt was gone. The anxiety. The once difficult question,Should I pass the test?wasn't hard to answer anymore. I'd tried to console myself by constantly sayingYes, pass, in my head. But the more you say one thing to yourself, the more you know that you believe the opposite.

  That was all gone, now. I could pass with a clear head. And a clear conscience. Would I ever knowallthe answers? Maybe not. But it didn't matter. I would pass, and I would live the life they robbed me of. And maybe someday, I'd somehow find the guy who put me in the test in the first place. I wondered what was on the outside. There was still so much I didn't know.Even though I told myself that I might not know the answer to everything, the questions still rang in my head. But I had to ignore them. I had to pass. Or die trying. Did death scare me now? Actually, yes. Death was a different story now. It wasn't more hell. I now had a chance to live for the first time.

  "Day-dreaming, Jack?"

  I looked up and saw nothing.The referee? "I thought you couldn't fix your suit today."

  "So did I," his deep voice was back, "'Looks like we were both wrong."

  I stood up. Something was different.

  Silence from the referee.

  I started at him.

  He pushed me back. "Watch it, Jack."

  I took a step back. "Are you afraid of me?"

  He snorted. "Are you serious?"

  I stroked my chin. This referee was speaking firmly. It didn't fear me. And it didn't make any silly jokes. "Who are you?"

  The referee chuckled. "What?"

  I could tell something was different. I didn't back down. "You're not the same guy."

  He breathed in slowly. "Well, it looks like you're keener than they said you were."

  I glared in his direction.

  "If you're really that curious, the previous referee was disposed of thirty minutes ago," he cracked his knuckles. "I didn't want to be the replacement, especially not foryou,but, you know, duty calls."

  I nodded slowly. This quick change of events would have surprised me before. After what had happened in the past few days, though, it was becoming hard to surprise me.

  "So, go on, do your thing."

  I thought about what he'd said. "So, a replacement ref?" I folded my arms. "What about the old one?"

  "Too weak. Quite an idiot. And come on, he let you break one of the most expensive devices like it was no big deal."

  "The suit?"

  He grunted as though I'd asked the most idiotic question ever. "Yes, Jack, the suit."

  "So, where is he now?"

  "Dead probably. The Originals don't tolerate that sort of thing."

  "He's dead?" I asked.And it's my fault. . ."Wait. The 'Originals'?"What are those supposed to be?

  He sniffed
. "Man, you've been in here this long and you haven't figured that out yet? Wow, I don't knowwhypeople are worried about you. You can't even-"

  "People are worried about me?" I said. "What people?"

  The referee sniffed. "No one. Forget it."

  I took a step forward. "No. Who are these people? Who are you talking about?"

  "Everyone expects you to fail Jack."

  My face fell. "Everyone. . ." I said, knowing he wouldn't explain who "everyone" specifically included. "Everyone on the outside?"

  He huffed. "Who else?" Then he started muttering.

  "What?"

  "Don't you have things to do, Jack?"

  I was starting to think that the criterion for being a ref was to first be a jerk.

  The ref tapped his foot.

  I exhaled. I did have things to do. A nod and a wave to the ref, and then I returned to the table and sat down. Checked my watch.

  Two hours until dinner.

  seventeen

  I tapped my fingers on the table. Which part first? This test couldn't be passed with my strength. It couldn't be passed with my speed. So, there was only one way I could pass.

  With my mind.

  I'd underestimated it before. But it was what would get me through. If this were to be my last day in the test, I had to trust my memory.

  It was a funny thing. The first referee was the one who'd led me to thinking of the plan. So, the biggest idiot that I knew helped me with a solution. Not only thinking of it, but the resources for it, too.And then he died. . .He died because of me. Because I broke the suit. And probably because of the help he gave me. I wanted to forget about it. But his death was because of me. I rubbed my head. I knew I wasn't the one who killed him. But if I hadn't gotten him to help, he probably would've still been alive.But it was legal. . .I didn't break the rules. But I couldn't ignore what had happened. A life was gone. I felt something for the first time. I thought I had felt it before, but it was on false memories. This time it was something I'd really done, or at least been connected to. I felt guilt.

  This short moment of sorrow was quickly replaced with anger. This was because of me, but it wasn't my fault. It was the same problem: the man in charge. He held Brian and me hostage by threatening our lives. And he killed the referee.